


Finality

by siximpossiblethings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Human, Character Death, Eventual Jo/Dean, M/M, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 10:22:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siximpossiblethings/pseuds/siximpossiblethings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Cas said something about finality before he went, how it wasn’t really an ending. Finality was the opening of a new door to a new beginning. Now is when Dean realizes he’s scared shitless of that door opening up and him not being ready to walk through the threshold.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finality

**Author's Note:**

> cross posted from tumblr. first long fic i’ve really written and of course it’s angst. have fun and stay safe, kiddos. thanks to charlie (charlottethellama . tumblr . com) for reading over!

Dean has been keeping watch at Castiel’s bedside for three days now. He’s only gone home to shower and change, at the request of doctors and Sam. It had slipped his mind with the current situation. Nurses brought him blankets for when he fell asleep in his chair, leaving trays of hot dogs with hardened buns and limp overcooked green beans. He never touched them, too focused on who he was watching over to eat.

It’s a cruel type of irony, really.

After Dean had lost his father, Cas was the one who had been there. He watched over him when Dean had passed out drunk, wiping the vomit from his mouth and never once complaining. Dean sobered up with AA meetings and Cas there to hold his hand throughout it all. Sam had been there too, of course. It meant a little something more though that someone else, beside Sam, cared enough to put up with his shit.

And here they are now, their little world together coming down to nothing but a green line on a monitor.

About a year after Dean got himself back on track, Castiel started complaining of headaches. The two of them had figured it was nothing at first. Probably just Cas working too hard again, too many late shifts. So he did what any other guy would do: pop the Tylenol and grin and bear it.

They realized Cas couldn’t do that anymore when he started coughing up blood.

The doctors at the hospitals, with all their charts and clipboards and IVs pumping God knew what into his bloodstream, told Dean and Cas that there was something wrong with him and they had caught it fairly late in the game. Dean doesn’t like to reflect on it too much. All the medical words they had used sounded too permanent, far too final for him.

That had been two years ago and Cas had done well, he really had. When he was compared with the statistics, it was a miracle that he had lasted this long. But one month ago, things started going downhill at an all too fast pace.

When Dean looks down onto Castiel’s pale face, so thin and gaunt, he can’t help but feel his insides clench up like there’s a python tightening around his waist. Not so long ago, it had been Cas watching over Dean as he was passed out drunk on their bed, watching like some guardian angel over him.

Fate was a fucking bitch.

Now it’s his turn to watch over Cas before he— Dean cuts his thoughts off short. He won’t allow his mind to go there, nope. It can’t go there because once it goes to that corner he knows full well it won’t come back. Denial is a good friend sometimes.

Dean’s hand has been in Castiel’s limp one, practically glued there, for the past three days. Cas had to come in after he got really bad a few nights ago. He’d been coughing up blood all over the place and Dean panicked. He called Sam once he knew the ambulance was on its way and when Dean was halfway towards losing his ever loving mind.

“Sammy, y-you’ve gotta come quick. It’s Cas; he’s… he’s not okay.” Dean’s face was contorted, eyebrows furrowed and tears flowing down his face.

“What? What happened?” Sam stood up from where he’d been sitting on the couch, Jess sleeping soundly in their room. He’d leave her a note explaining the situation later.

“Just come over, Sammy. The ambulance is on its way. Please.” There was a desperate tone in his voice that Sam didn’t want to toy with.

“I’ll be there as fast as I can,” Sam said. He knew what was coming and he knew that Dean would need someone there.

With that to comfort him, Dean hung up. He took Cas’ hand, gripping it tightly, looking him deeply in the eyes, trying to smile.

“You’re gonna be alright, okay, baby? You’re gonna be great.” If he hadn’t been coughing up blood onto a now red rag, he would’ve kissed him to keep Cas calm.

“Dean, I’m scared.”

And Christ, so is Dean. The words cut into him like a knife, blunt and quick. Everything he’s been fearing for the past two years is coming true and he can’t do a damn thing about it. He just smiles sadly, and squeezes Cas’ hand one more time.

“Yeah,” he says. “I am too.”

~

When his mind returns to the present, Dean hears a small voice croak out his name.

“Dean?” It’s Cas, eyes groggy and obviously still slightly drugged.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says, trying to appear as if he isn’t exhausted and drained physically and mentally. Dean offers him a weary smile and leans forward. “How’re you holding up?”

“It’s safe to say I could be better,” Castiel deadpans. He smiles too, tired and worn. Dean chuckles a little, rubbing circles on Cas’ palm. “How long was I out?” he asks.

“Pretty long, I’d say. You needed your rest though.” Dean doesn’t mention how Cas was out for eight hours and he sat next to him throughout all of them.

“I dreamed about you.” Cas says it with a blush creeping up his face and Dean’s happy to see some color in it.

“What about me?” he replies, almost teasingly back.

“When we went to visit that farm my cousin owned a few summers ago. You remember that, right?” Cas turns to look at him, traces of a smile still on his thin lips. “You pushed me into the water in that lake he had in the back.”

Dean laughs at the memory, remembering that weekend crystal clear. “Yeah, and you got us both tipsy and practically undressed me on the damn dock.” This had been before John died, before the serious drinking.

Castiel’s mouth cracked in two, smiling the widest and most genuine smile Dean could remember seeing in a long time. “I remember that. And afterwards,” he said suggestively.

Dean remembered that weekend in a soft and wispy pink haze. One of Cas’ rich cousins owned a farm house a few miles outside of Lawrence and Cas figured the two of them could use some private time. His cousin (Dean thinks it was Zachariah but he can’t be too sure) owned it, but no one had lived there for years. The place had always been in the family and Dean remembers Cas wishing he could own it one day. It was painted snow white and had brilliant blue shutters. Cas remarked once about how it looked like something out a dream.

It was miserably hot at night, so much so that neither Dean nor Cas could sleep in anything but their boxers. It probably would have been much cooler if they slept in two separate beds, but Cas insisted on staying with Dean. He didn’t mind much, waking up to Cas’ sleeping form curled up next to him always a good thing in his eyes.

They passed the time with sweet sex, all tangled limbs and soft lips against warm skin. Their room was filled with the sounds of moans and breathless voices begging for more. Afterwards, they would collapse into each other, finding the other’s mouth in no time.

Dean was pretty sure that was what heaven would be if he ever got there.

Now, it’s all smoky memories with burned bits at the corners.

“Dean?” Cas says, making the words sound like a question.

“Mhm?”

“I love you,” he says. Dean sees that his blue eyes are shimmering in the fluorescent hospital lights.

“Hey now, don’t cry,” Dean says. It’s to himself more than to Cas. “I love you, too, Cas. You know that.”

“I’m going to die, aren’t I?”

Dean doesn’t know how to reply to that.

“You don’t have to answer,” he continues. “I know it’s going to happen.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean says. “The doctors here, they’re doin’ a really great job, Cas. They’re gonna patch you up and we’ll be on our way home.”

Castiel just shakes his head, two tears rolling down his thin cheeks. “Don’t lie to yourself, Dean. It’ll just make it harder in the end.” Cas squeezes Dean’s hand, one last little bit of strength in him peaking through. “I just want you to be happy when I’m gone. I don’t want you to stay alone because you deserve happiness, Dean. I don’t care if it’s with me or someone else. I just want you to be happy.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Dean says in reply. He’s getting angry now. This isn’t how he and Cas are supposed to end. They’re supposed to do all that cheesy shit Cas wanted to do, like get married and have a house with a dog or cat and 2.5 kids that the two of them would love like crazy. This isn’t what he planned on, dammit. Secretly, he almost hates Cas for being right and so honest about it when he can’t do it himself.

“You know it’s happening, Dean.” Castiel is looking in his eyes like he’s reading his soul and Dean doesn’t like it. Cas was always able to read him like a book and he doesn’t want him to worry about _him_ of all people when he’s about to—

He stops his train of thought again. “It doesn’t have to, Cas.”

“I don’t think we get a voice in this, I’m afraid.” Cas smiles and why is he so bliss and Zen when he knows what’s coming? Dean can’t face a world without Cas and of course he’ll have Sam, but  Cas is Cas and no one’s going to ever replace him.

“I don’t want you to go,” is all he can manage out.

“Dean, look at me. Look at me right now.” Dean knows that if Cas were able to, he would have his face in his hands. He turns his gaze to him.

“You knew this was coming, you just didn’t want to admit it to yourself.” Castiel’s voice is getting weaker now and Dean feels it.

“I just want to tell you that you are the most righteous man I’ve ever met and I want to thank you for giving me heaven while I was being dragged through hell.”

Dean shouldn’t be smiling right now but shit, this is what full circle feels like, doesn’t it? Five years ago it was Dean in hell, the flames licking at his heels and burning him alive. Cas just happened to be there to drag him out of it. And now Dean is the one dragging Cas out and guiding him towards heaven and god, he swears he can feel his heart shatter into millions of pieces at the moment he realizes it.

“Thank you, Dean.”

It’s at this point that Dean realizes how close their faces are. He doesn’t really give a rat’s ass about what the doctor’s will say, so he presses a kiss on Castiel’s lips, feeling a slight kiss back. He pulls away and smiles, cheeks moist as he opens his mouth to speak.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to follow up after that,” Dean says, hand still holding on tight to Cas’. “But god, I love you, Cas. I really do.”

“I love you too, Dean.” Cas smiles blissfully, face tired, but calm all at once. They soon fall asleep that way, Cas leaning against the pillows on his bed, Dean resting on his chest.

~

When he wakes up the next morning, Dean realizes that he can’t hear the faint beat of Cas’ heart anymore. Eyes widening with panic, he yells out for a nurse, a doctor, anyone. Anyone who can save his angel.

~

Castiel is pronounced dead at 8:16 A.M, November 21st, 2013. It’s a Thursday and drizzling outside.

~

Sam is the one behind the Impala’s wheel on the ride home. He hasn’t driven in what seems like forever, not since he had to take Dean to the hospital after a particularly bad night of drinking.

“Dean,” he says, voice cautious. “They did everything they could. You and I both know that.”

“Sam?” Dean says, leaning against the passenger seat. He’s exhausted, drained. Everything going on right now is an out of body experience. He’s a puppet and some asshole above is pulling the strings.

“Yeah?” Sam looks over at his brother, eyes full of something on the brink of worry.

“Not now.”

Sam doesn’t press him further; there’ll be time later.

~

Cas’ funeral is Sunday. Dean knows he would have been happy with it. Throughout all the trouble they went through, Cas always had an unshakeable sense of faith in God. It’s only fitting that the minister touches upon it.

“Even so faith,” he says. “If it hath not works, is dead, being alone.” Dean thinks it’s from James or John. One of those ‘J’ names.

“From what his loved ones have told me,” the minister continues, nodding toward the Miltons and even Dean. “Castiel had a remarkable gift that few of us ever truly encounter: real, true, and unconditional faith.” He pauses to clear his throat, but then continues.

“In the face of illness, he remained faithful. Not only to God, though. In bouts of sickness and health, he was faithful to his loved ones.” When he says that, Dean feels Anna and Sam’s eyes burning through his suit jacket. He knows that line is about him.

“The world lost a pure soul and may he rest in peace. Amen.”

“Amen,” the crowd echoes.

~

“Castiel was the love of my life.”

Dean’s eulogy starts out simple. He’s just stating the facts that everyone there knew already. He’s just so out of his comfort zone that he can’t speak like a normal damn human. After fumbling over the introduction, he sets a steady and decent pace for himself.

“I… I went through a pretty big rough patch in my life,” he says, almost like a confession to the crowd. He nods while saying it, as if owning up to something.

“After my dad passed away, I made some pretty poor choices. Like the minister said,” he stated, giving a nod to him in the corner. “Cas never gave up on me.

“Hell,” he continues, managing the crack the faintest smile. “I guess you could call him my own little guardian angel. He helped me out of that rough patch and when his rough patch came, I knew it was my turn to watch over him.” Dean clears his throat and sniffles just a little bit. He doesn’t look out into the crowd. He knows there’s going to be too many tears to find there.

“I just didn’t know he wouldn’t be getting out of his.” Dean doesn’t mention how he thinks its completely unfair, how Cas, of all people, deserves a second chance. If Dean got one, why can’t Cas?

So when he says, “I don’t think I’ll ever understand why what happened happened, but I know full well that I’m glad we got to be together before it,” the big question is coursing through his mind:

_Why?_

~

A week later, Dean is still crashing at Sam and Jess’ apartment. He can’t bring himself to go back to him and Cas’ old place. At least not yet. That’s what he’s been telling himself.

He’s at the table one morning, forcing a lukewarm cup of coffee down his throat. His eyes are heavy and he doesn’t really know what to do with himself. He’s going back to work the next day, but he doubts he’ll even be able to do that.

He’ll do the work, of course. Dean always manages to fix customer’s motors and hubcaps and just about every other problem they could run into. He’ll do that no problem, but he’ll just run through the motions.

Nothing has been sticking in Dean’s head. Sam’ll tell him that someone dropped off another casserole and he’ll nod, but the words don’t stick. He can’t will himself to do anything, not even eat. That’s when Sam realizes just how bad things are.

While Dean is almost half way done with his cup of coffee, Sam walks into the kitchen. It’s funny how someone his size can walk gingerly and Dean’s almost surprised when he sees that he’s there.

“Jo dropped off a pot of stew,” he says, trying to get Dean interested. “She says it’s your favorite.”

Dean just nods, not saying anything.

“Dean, this is getting ridiculous. I know Cas died only a week ago, but I know you. You’re just going to keep living like this, like you’re punishing yourself or something.” Sam is worried and Dean knows that. He just can’t manage to say anything in return.

“You’re going to keep doing this and if I don’t knock you out of it, no one will.”

He doesn’t say anything for awhile. After all, what can be said to the truth?

But then he thinks over it again, and somehow, a hollow and thick voice manages to reappear. It sounds as if the words were metal, falling flat onto the kitchen table after being pushed off his tongue, but there they are.

“Okay.”

~

Dean moves back into the old apartment two days later. It’s a lot to adjust to, not seeing Cas when he wakes up every morning. When he comes home from work, Dean knows he’ll be coming home to an empty apartment that looks like someone lived there once. Now, it’s just lonely.

The photos on the walls mock him. Castiel’s clothes are still in their closet, perfectly ironed and pressed. The scent of him remains and Dean finds himself unable to sleep in their room so he sleeps on the living room couch.

He lives like this for awhile, going through the motions of everyday life without Cas. It gets to be too much soon though.

Their former room goes untouched until Dean decides living there is torture. He finds an apartment downtown, one closer to his garage. One where he can start over.

~

Of course, he feels like he’s almost betraying Cas by moving. He thinks a lot about it, prays (as ridiculous as it sounds) to him over it. He recalls how Castiel told him that he wanted Dean happy. He tries to convince himself that it’s okay.

He can’t convince himself at night though. Night is when he loses it and starts crying all over again.

~

Dean doesn’t let completely go of Cas. He keeps a few of his shirts, the cologne he liked to wear. Even his reading glasses.

Anna, Gabe, Michael, and the rest of his family get the rest of it all. They tell Dean to keep the pictures of the two of them together.

With a gentle look in her eyes, Anna tells him, “Thank you for being there for him.”

Dean just plays it off like it was no big deal, that it was what anyone would have done.

But Anna just shakes her head, smiling lightly. “No, it wasn’t. You went above and beyond for him. Most guys would just have given up.” She pauses for a moment, licks her lower lip quickly. Dean remembers how Cas used to do the same thing. Must run in the family.

Continuing, she says “You made him happy, Dean. That meant a lot, to both us and Cas.”

Anna’s eyes are soft and Dean can’t help but feel a little warm inside from it. It wasn’t the same warmth he used to get when Castiel looked at him, though. This is different. Anna’s look is purely platonic. Just friendly and allows him to feel decent for a second. Cas’ set his insides on fire, causing him to almost radiate with light.

He nods and offers a tired smile and soon he says goodbye and makes his way to the new apartment. Dean tries to ignore how empty he feels the whole drive home. He misses the feeling of Cas’ warmth more than he’ll ever admit.

~

There are a lot of times where Dean is tempted to drink again. Sam’s helpful with that stuff. He makes sure there isn’t any booze in Dean’s fridge. He knows that one sip can cause all that work Dean, Cas, and he went through to go to waste.

Even though he’s tempted, Dean never caves. He feels proud of that, even if it’s a little pathetic to be proud of not becoming a loser alcoholic again.

He wishes he could say that he doesn’t begin to drink again because he’s too strong for that or because he never wants to get _that_ bad again. But the truth is, Dean can’t find a single fuck to give about all those reasons. He doesn’t view himself highly enough to feel that way, that’s one thing that still hasn’t changed.

Dean doesn’t drink after Cas dies because he doesn’t want Cas to be disappointed in him. It doesn’t matter that he’s long gone. Dean feels like he’s watching over him and he’ll be damned if Cas ever has to look down on him and find him passed out on the carpet ever again.

~

“Have you gone?”

“Gone where?”

“You know where.”

Dean is quiet. He knows he’ll never be able to lie to Sam, no matter how hard he tries.

“Haven’t been able to,” he replies. Dean takes a swig of his root beer and tries not to zoom in on how childish he feels drinking freakin’ soda with his brother instead of a brew like they used to. He appreciates that Sam won’t drink in front of him, but still.

“Haven’t been able to,” Sam begins, flashing a questioning glance Dean’s way. “Or don’t want to?”

Dean doesn’t like the sound of the latter part of the question. It makes it sound like he doesn’t want to go because he can’t be bothered, that Cas never mattered to him, that he’s a real shitty person. Wiping the side of his mouth, Dean begins to speak.

“Don’t make it sound like I can’t be bothered, Sam.” He glances up at his brother and sighs. “Just can’t face it, I guess.”

“Well,” Sam says, “maybe you should work on that. I’ll help if you need. You know that.”

“Yeah,” Dean says while taking another sip. “Maybe.”

~

Dean tries to go and visit Castiel’s grave a total of nine times the following two months. He died over six months ago and it’s still difficult to sit himself down on the six feet of dirt that separates the two of them. Sam tells him to go whenever he can, to not push it. Dean still can’t help but feel guilty though.

~

On the way home from the garage one afternoon, Dean sees a florist selling little daisies and violets. It’s on a whim that he pulls up and buys a bouquet. But it’s not on a whim that he stops driving home and goes to see Cas’ grave.

It’s bright and sunny out, the light warming his skin. Dean takes awhile to find Castiel’s grave. The gray stone has pictures placed in front of it, little stones and pebbles placed on the top. A white feather is on top, too, being held down by the rocks.

Dean scratches the back of his neck and god, he feels like such an asshole. He knows he should have come here sooner but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Now, he’s trying to make up for those past six months where visiting was short of impossible.

“Hey, Cas,” he says. His expression is blank not for lack of emotion, but for lack of understanding. He can’t comprehend how real this is right now. The fact that this is as final as it gets terrifies him in a million ways.

Cas said something about finality before he went, how it wasn’t really an ending. Finality was the opening of a new door to a new beginning. Now is when Dean realizes he’s scared shitless of that door opening up and him not being ready to walk through the threshold.

Clearing his throat, Dean takes another step closer to the grave. He’s not ready to sit down yet, but this is a start.

“I got these for you,” he says, the hand that isn’t holding the bouquet in his pocket. “I figured I sort of had to make it up to you.” He’s quiet afterwards, letting the light breeze do the talking for a little while.

“I, uh, I guess I didn’t plan this out too well.” Dean scratches the back of his neck again, unsure of where to go from there.

Unsure of where to go on, Dean stands there in silence. It’s not complete closure, but it’s something.

~

Dean returns to Cas’ grave every Thursday afternoon. He gets off work early on Thursday and being there, even if he doesn’t talk too much, it serves as a sort of therapy. Dean feels like for every minute he sits there it’s one minute that he’s spending with Cas.

Talking doesn’t really begin until a few weeks in. Dean has fallen into a routine that helps him feel better and he doesn’t plan on changing it anytime soon. By sitting there every Thursday, Dean regains a part of himself that he had lost after Cas died. He doesn’t think he’ll be completely whole again, but then again, he’s a work in progress.

~

Dean starts talking to Cas when he’s at his grave about a plethora of topics. How his day went, what’s going on at work. When Sam and Jess get engaged, Cas is the first to know. When Dean goes out on a date and feels guilty after, he talks to Castiel about it and it calms him down.

Dean becomes an uncle on June 6th, 2018 and he’s ecstatic, balls to the walls happy. He rushes to the cemetery, flowers in hand (he always brings those), and he can’t stop gushing.

“They named her Deanna,” he says with a little laugh. He’s grinning from ear to ear and it feels like his face is going to split in two. “I told ‘em they should name her after someone worth while, but they wouldn’t budge.”

Dean runs his fingers over the etchings on the tomb stone, feeling the curves of Castiel’s name beneath his fingers. He recalls all the plans they had that would probably have been accomplished by now and for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t feel crippled by them. He can breathe and he’s able to reflect on them without wanting to curl up and never think about them again.

Had things gone the way they wanted them to, Dean and Cas would have probably been married by now. Children had never been up for much debate. Cas always wanted them and so did Dean, even if he wouldn’t own up to it. A little girl and a little boy would have completed their family.

It might not have been a grand plan, but it would’ve been perfect for the two of them.

Dean still visits no matter how much time passes. It’s impossible not to, since Cas will always remain a huge part of his life. Now, though, he doesn’t feel sad. It’s acceptance and it’s final and now Dean isn’t too afraid of walking through the door.

~

Dean dies when he’s eighty-six. It’s not a long, drawn out death and he’s grateful for that. Sammy is there with him when he goes and Dean knows it won’t be long until they’re together again because heaven won’t really be heaven if Sam’s not there.

He stays behind to watch his funeral, eyeing who appears and who doesn’t. Jo is there and she turns the ring on her finger. Her eyes are wet and he feels bad for leaving her behind. They had gotten together fairly late in the game, keeping each other company and each other happy.

Their daughter is there, too. She’s the spitting image of her mother, save for a splattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. They named her Mary Ellen and she’s the light of Dean’s life.

Even the Milton show up. The ones that are still kicking, that is. Anna’s fiery red hair is snow white now and Gabriel’s face is lined with wrinkles and laugh lines.

Sam does the eulogy, reading through tears. He lost Jess a few years back, but he powered through. Dean’s positive she’s up in heaven somewhere so Sammy’s got nothing to worry about.

Before he finally crosses over, he makes sure Mary, Jo, Sam – even Anna and Gabe – are alright. He thinks it’s the big brother and the father in him that won’t die, always fiercely protective over his family.

He crosses over into the light and he feels warmth he hasn’t felt in a long time.

~

Heaven is strange. When he’s there, he’s thirty-two again and young and limber. He’s standing in front of a white house with blue shutters. It’s the house they spent their weekend together in. He smiles when he sees the Impala in the garage, anxiously waiting to see if he can mess around with fixing it up later on. He had passed down the real thing to Mary, shocked that it’s still running somehow. He doesn’t question it though. Why question a good thing? Dean heads up the porch steps to head into the house, still unsure of what he’ll find there.

“Hello?” he calls out, shutting the door behind him. “Anyone here?”

He hears a screen door shut from his right. Moving towards the sound, Dean finds himself in a kitchen. There’s a mixture of apples and cinnamon in the air and it feels like home. He doesn’t see anyone there though, so he calls out again.

“Anybody home?” Dean glances around the kitchen, confused.

“Dean?” a rough and deep familiar voice sounds. It’s a voice that Dean hasn’t heard in a long time.

Castiel pops up from behind the counter and he’s all stubble and blue eyes and Dean is so happy he could just _die_ , if he weren’t already dead. Dean doesn’t say anything, his mouth just hangs open for a moment.

“Cat got your tongue?” Cas teases with a small smirk on his face. “You look like you haven’t seen me in years. Are you okay?”

Dean’s about to speak when he notices the violets and daisies on the kitchen table.

He says “I’m fine,” lips curled into a smile, but he feels that it isn’t completely accurate. His brain is doing cartwheels all over the place and he feels that light he remembers feeling a long time ago flare up again. This is their chance, the eternity they never got to have back on Earth.

“I’m great,” he says, deciding that’s more fitting. “Never been better.” He rushes around the counter, swooping Cas up in his arms, the other man’s laughter filling the room. Their lips press against each other’s and Dean realizes Cas still tastes like ozone, pure and clean.

Dean doesn’t know too much about heaven. He’s only just gotten there after all. But he knows a lot about Cas and that’s really all the knowledge he needs now


End file.
